Flowing Darkness
by Amata19
Summary: [DT] Thundering across the desolate worlds, one rider stumbles upon something she has not seen in a long time. Living people. And these people are equally shocked with her appearance, too.. for she had to have come across the waste lands...
1. Dry Heat

-1**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Tower multiverse, I only wish I could come up with something like that. The only character that is mine, is the main female. The Ka-Tet are strictly King's property. The time frame doesn't particularly figure in this story, aside from where the Tet are at this point in time.. It's set in the gao between _Wizard and Glass _and _Wolves of the Calla_.**

Far, far away, a dry wind blew into the place where she lay, in darkness. Brittle, old hay flew against her face, feather light and a million years away. She was numb, so numb. She felt far away from everything. There was only the throb of her head, the far away feelings of that dry wind, and unimaginable heat. A board was digging into her, but that was small, unimportant. What seemed to matter was the darkness. The darkness was safe, it needed no answers, no explanation. It spoke for itself. It whispered to her, but it seemed to be whispering in another language.

A groan escaped her lips, but that sounded muffled, as if it where being made by someone behind thick walls. The dark wasn't whispering any more. It was talking to her, but she still couldn't understand it.

Abruptly, the board digging into her became more painful, it began to struggle through the blanket of darkness, rising from a distant murmur to a closer whisper and finally to a hectoring shout that made her head throb. Around her, the darkness flew away, all comfort gone, leaving only a dry heat which offered nothing.

Her eyes snapped open, as breath escaped in a warm gush. Her eyes were at first too blinded by the bright sunlight of the place to see anything. But after a while, her eyes began to adjust. She sat up slowly, rubbing absently at her neck. Bitterly, she began to wish her eyes hadn't adjusted. Because what she saw made no sense.

She appeared to be sitting on an uneven wooden floor, sun bleached and weathered. The building was a stable of some kind, from what she could see, the stables waited in tired rows for horses that would never come, from the look of the place.

Sun filtered through the gaps in the board walls, showing the dust particles that floated serenely through the stifling air. A dry wind blew in from behind her, blowing her hair out in front of her in black strings. She got up slowly, in deference to the heat, and looked around a bit more. In one of the stables, there seemed to be a bread board with a piece of what looked like jerky on it. Feeling ever more confused, she walked slowly onward, but the stables offered no answers. They were what they were. Deserted.

Worrying at her nails, she moved along the line of stables, when seemingly out of nowhere, a machine cycled up.

_Ka-THUD ka-THUD ka-THUD_

As if summoned by the sound, a man in a black robe swept around the corner at the end of the stables, wiping at his dripping mouth with the sleeve of his robe.

She did nothing. Simply froze with her eyes wide and staring, looking like one of the horses that had once come here, her hand still at her mouth.

The man in black stopped too, but there was no fear on his face. He only smiled charmingly at the girl standing there, looking at him with a frozen horse-eyed stare. Still smiling, he extended his hand to her, which was still dripping with water.

"Come now, child." He said amiably. "No need to be afraid of me, I wouldn't hurt a fly."


	2. Worlds Away and Spinning

-1A fire crackled and snapped to itself, throwing a warm orange glow in an uneven, flickering circle. Four people and one animal sat in a circle around it's heat, talking amongst themselves as they rested with a wild tangle of trees on one side, and open grassland on the other.

One of them, a boy of no more than thirteen, messy blonde hair spilling over his finely made brow, looked up quizzically at the rest of them.

"You know guys, I just got a feeling of….." He shook his head, looking puzzled. "Doesn't matter, it's gone."

Another of them turned sharply at that, an older man with black hair going grey, and blue eyes looking out of a handsome, weather-beaten face.

"What was it, Jake? Try to remember, if you can. I, too, caught a sense of something, but far off in my mind."

"What is it, sug?" A beautiful black woman asked, sitting off to the side of the fire.

Jake sat there, frowning whilst he looked into the flames, mesmerised by their warm, primitive dance in the wind. He looked up, his blue eyes seeming to look at all of them.

"Roland." He whispered harshly. The older man looked at him, blue eyes questioning, but before he could answer, an image slammed into his brain, clear as day.

_A rider, nothing but a flying shadow against the growing dark, the sun a melting, blazing light that traces a golden corona around their shape as they ride, hell for leather. The thunder of the horses' hooves comes to him sharp and clear, as clear as the dust rising up from it's hurrying passage. The shadow refuses to form a person, so at the moment it remains an unnamed hulk, the only identifying thing about it is the long hair whipping out behind the Hulk, which probably means this fierce rider is female. _

Slowly, slowly, the vision cools, then fades. Roland is sitting cross legged by the fire, his eyes wide and sparkling with its light. He closes them, and passes a trembling hand, minus two fingers and a thumb, over his face.

"Jake…" But he didn't continue, didn't need to continue, the sound that whispered behind them was all the answer they needed to have.

All of them bolted to their feet, except the black woman, who had no feet. A young man with unruly dark hair and hazel eyes lifted her, with one arm, using the free hand to unholster the revolver at his right hip.

"That vision!" He exclaimed. "It was….."

Jake nodded. "About ten minutes ago, wasn't it?"

Roland nodded, standing next to Eddie with the hand on the butt of his revolver, which hung at his left side.

"Be ready." He said, not looking at any of them.

She rode, rode with the wind. It whooshed past her face, her black hair flying out long behind her, flapping and snapping in the made breeze. The horse beneath her was tattooing it's hard, rapid thunder across the empty plains, plains that had stood empty for so long. Her and the horse rushed forward, the big stallions muscles flexing beneath her, it's thick mane flowing with the same breeze. Her eyes were fixed on the sky ahead, which was faint and eerie with the last red light of the departing sunset.

The land rushed past to the side and beneath her, nothing but flashes of green and brown, all the colours blended with one another as her and the horse ran, ran from their own shadows, the dogs of hell, everything. Her face was serious, but at the same time filled with delight, which shined in her eyes like a torchlight in darkness.

Her eyes were fixed on the path ahead, with emptiness behind her and rushing towards her, emptiness everywhere. She was moving on, but the world moved on faster.

Suddenly, abruptly, there was something filling the emptiness. Dark shadows, standing in front of a fire. People… gods, _people_.

She jerked hard on the reins, much too hard. The black stallion beneath her reared, it's front legs pawing at the air, its eyes wide and panicked. For a brief terrifying moment, she thought the horse would topple her, but she held onto the reins for dear life as the horse reared wildly, whinnying in the dark.

Finally, the horse found it's hold on it's panic, and it's front feet connected with the ground, causing dust to rise in a cloud.

She stared at the four people staring at her, three with guns in their hands. They paid her the same courtesy.

She had been able to stay on her horse when it had been rearing beneath her, but her mind could not take this. Her mind first felt light, then simply gone. Her breath muttered out, and she fainted, falling sideways off her horse.


	3. Bitter Awakenings

-1She had been in darkness again, it danced in her mind, ever mocking her with snatches from the world of light, little distorted voices, talking about her, to her, but it never granted her to be free from the dark. She hadn't been as deep in the dark as before, and for that much she was grateful. The glimpses into the world of light were always small, far away, and confused, and made her feel fear in a deep-inside-the-bubble way. People were talking about her, talking about what to _do_ with her. She had to get out of the darkness soon, so they wouldn't trap her there forever.

She could vaguely hear the crack and snap of a fire, and the faint howl of the wind as it raced across the earth. The people, who she could not hear right now but somehow sensed, were close, but not speaking.

She struggled against the darkness, not knowing if her body was actually lashing out, not caring. The dark fought against her, wrapping it's bubble around her, threatening to drag her down deeper, but she did not give in. She fought tirelessly, and the darkness let go, and slowly, so slowly, the fire she had heard appeared before her eyes.

At first the flickering orange light stabbed at her eyes, making her squint, but that feeling was irrelevant, what mattered was the all encompassing numbness which had seized her body, and the panic which had her mind it's its hard grip.

Her eyes opened fully, and she sat upwards in a streak, meaning to bolt before these people, or mutants, could hurt her.

She had moved fast, but one of them was faster. He was in front of her, looking down at her from bright blue eyes set in a handsome, tired face.

"Sai," He said, "We will not hurt you, unless you give us reason to."

Not taking her eyes off the cowboy's face, she settled down into sitting position, showing she was calm, and not wanting to hurt anyone.

Once seated, she looked around at her surroundings.

Not taking her eyes off the cowboy's face, she settled down into sitting position, showing she was calm, and not wanting to hurt anyone.

Once seated, she looked around at her surroundings.

Her horse stood off to one side, away from the fire, but just in front of him, three people and a bumbler sat watching her silently, attentively.

One of them, a young boy, surely no more than twelve, stepped forward. Bright blue eyes regarded her, in a well made face topped with slightly messy sun-bleached blonde hair.

"Who are you?" He asked boldly, as if he were the elder. Mayhap he thought he was. Anyone can be big when surrounded by gunslingers.

She shot him a cool look, and set her eyes back on the tall cowboy.

"You are the dinh, aye?"

He regarded her coldly, his arms crossed on his chest. Flushing, she dropped her eyes, stopping at the revolver that hung from his left hip.

"Have demons taken your tongues?" Her voice was nervous, quiet against the crackle of the fire.

"I asked you a question, sai."

She turned, the young boy was regarding her, and his eyes spoke coldness and finality.

Swallowing, she answered him.

"I am Raven, of Delain. And you, soh?"

"Jake Chambers."

She turned back to the gunslinger who had stopped her from running.

"Are you the dinh?"

"Aye."

"And who are you, gunslinger? Ye of a kind who all thought were dead, but stand before me now? Or are ye nothing but glammer?"

"If I am a glammer, sai, I do not know it. I am Roland Deschain, of Gilead. My ka-mates you see are Jake, Eddie and Susannah."

"Oy!" The bumbler cried.

A smile flickered on Roland's face. "And Oy, yes."

"You are _all_ gunslingers?"

"That we are." The brown skinned woman said, and did a shambling crawl towards her, as he was missing her lower legs. "How do you come to be here, then? You'd have to cross the waste lands to get here, and we took the last train."

At that, Eddie brayed quick and sudden laughter.

"I…" She looked down, frowning. "A thinny."

They all studied her closely, but she didn't see, she was still looking down at the ground, her hands working at each other.

"And your horse?" Roland spoke in such a harsh voice that she looked up from her hands, her eyes wide. She was looking at his left hand, of course, which rested on his butt of his gun.

She looked down again, chewing her lip, her hands basically clawing at each other. "I…" A small shudder worked through her.

A hand laid itself on her shoulder, and she bit back a scream.

"Sai" Roland said, "look."

She glanced up at him nervously, her eyes moist and wet. A bullet had been placed on his knuckles, and now it ran deftly across them, as his knuckles rose and fell rapidly.

She was silently watching the bullet's passage, rapt, and gradually the tension left her body.

The bullet rippled across Roland's knuckles, gleaming gold in the light of the fire, and Raven's breathing steadied to a slow, regular pattern. Her eyes slipped shut.

Roland glanced at her, saw she was completely entranced, eyes closed, and spoke.

"Raven of Delain, how did you come by your horse?"

Abruptly, startling all of them, her eyes opened. Her voice followed, flat and featureless.

_It is dark, and Raven is very afraid. She's is surrounded by trees, trees are everywhere, rustling at each other, sounding as if they are whispering. She is lost, has been lost for hours. The trees surround her, seeming to draw closer as the sun goes down and their shadows grow longer. Tears flow down her cheeks, and as she stumbles around, her voice hitches and sobs._

"_Hello?" She cries, knowing shouting is useless but doing it anyway, "I'm lost, is someone there?"_

_The rustling of the trees intensifies, but it is joined with the rustling of dead leaves and the snapping of twigs._

_Hope, however reluctant it was, dawns in Raven's tear filled eyes. _

_She turns towards the direction of the snapping and rustling, and the trembling trees, now draped in thickening twilight shadows, part to reveal a man. At the sight of him, the hope leaps from her eyes._

_He is dirty. Not just dirty, filthy. His hair, long down to his shoulders, is knotted and leaves announce themselves randomly in the wildness of it. He is grinning in the dark, grinning from a face whose stubble is just beginning to be a beard. He has something in his hand, shining faintly in the moonlight that manages to penetrate the canopy of trees._

_Although she is afraid and very worn out, both emotionally and physically, running or pleading with his man does not enter her mind. This man is obviously a harrier. Pleading would only fall on death ears, and running in this endless forest would be useless, but these thoughts do not even cross her mind. If she dies tonight, she dies._

_Ka._

_Sweeping her hair out of her eyes, she looks at the man sternly._

_Unperturbed, the man frees himself from the tangle of trees and approaches her, the knife he has losing it's glow as he moves under a blanket of shadow. _

_He doesn't speak to her, and Raven doubts that his brains are anything more than mush. His eyes have a vacant look that is not hidden by the shine in his eyes. The shine shows exactly what he has in mind for her. He means to rape her. Grinning bitterly, her open hand turning into a clenched fist, she stands her ground. She had been lost and frightened, her situation out of her control. This was something she could influence, this was something she could make better, or worse. If it was her dying act, so be it. Living in an empty world wasn't much of a life, anyway. _

_Almost slobbering, the harrier moves towards what he thinks is an innocent little lamb, lost in the woods and pinned to the forest floor by her own fear. He couldn't be more wrong. Yes, she is lost, but she is not afraid, and she has never felt more alive. Her vision is cold and clear, her blood is running hot and fast with adrenaline, her mouth set in a determined grin. The harrier either does not notice this, or does not read it for what it means: 'Try me, sai, just make my day.'_

_Abruptly, there is a sound in the dark, a sound which startles her because she should by no rights be hearing it. It is the low whicker of a horse. Her grin grows wider, and she thinks to herself that this is one busy harrier. Killing, stealing, and raping. Oh, my, where do I find the time?_

_He is almost upon her, and her eyes, still seeing everything with that startling clarity, search around for something to help her escape this as unscathed as possible. Her eyes happen on a thick and stumpy branch, lying not far from her foot, looking like a midget snake in the shadows._

_Putting what she hopes is a terrified expression on her face, she snaps her body to the right, as if to run, deliberately making the movement of her body jerky and abrupt, and she pretends to trip over the branch she has spotted._

_The harrier snorts a thick laugh, almost right behind her, but she turns, quick as a snake, and grabs the branch._

_The harrier lays his grimy hand on her ankle._

_Her lips peeling back from her teeth in a ghastly grin, she lunges, driving the branch into his crotch._

_He screeches, the unholy banshee quality of it tearing apart the fragile night's silence, and she springs from the floor, the knuckles of the hand holding the branch deathly white. The ghastly grin is still on her face. The harrier was smarter than he looked, because when he saw her stand he forgot about his balls and advanced on her with the knife. _

_Raven shows him some more teeth, looking like a predator in the wild trying to scare off the the competition, and lunges at him again. The hand not holding the knife immediately goes to his crotch, but that wasn't what she was interested in this time. She swings the branch in a savage arc, and it connects with the hand holding the knife with a sickening _crack! _of breaking bones. He shrieks again, the knife flying from the broken fingers, and sticks in the soft forest earth. _

_Risking everything despite the harrier's broken fingers, Raven crouches, and frees the knife from the earth._

"Wanna rape me, do you, motherfucker?" _She screeches at him, her eyes blazing, _"Come and GET SOME!"

_Crazed with her own fury, she throws the branch at the harrier, and it connects squarely with his forehead. His eyes roll backwards and he sags to the floor. Laughing and screeching, Raven kicks him over onto his back and buries the knife in his throat. _

_He gurgles nonsensically, spraying blood up in a fountain, drenching her._

_She doesn't notice. She is staring down at the body, breathing in harsh gasps, her eyes wide, showing the whites, looking like the horse she has heard._

_Suddenly, she sways on her feet. Her knees come unhinged, and she collapses next to the dead harrier, looking like a corpse herself in the dark._

All throughout this, her voice had stayed flat and featureless. It was chilling. She was, of course, deeply asleep, but as they listened, mesmerised in the story, they had felt the emotions she had felt, but that had nothing to do with her voice. It was dead, like the voice of an automated recording.

Unaware of the ka-tet's unease, Raven continued.

"When I came to," She said in that calm, dead voice, "it was morning. I heard the horse again. As dazed as I was, I was smart enough to keep far away from the harrier, and went to where I thought it had came from."

Roland stood before her, his bright blue eyes fastened to the sleeping face with the eyes open before him, a thought ticking away in his mind, unknown by any of them.


End file.
